Master of All He Surveys
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: The war was over, Voldemort was dead, and good had triumphed over evil. Only the terrifically naive and the frustratingly obtuse believed that would be the end of things. What comes next?
1. Chapter 1  An Ending and a Beginning

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Master of all He Surveys<strong>

by Scribe Teradia

**Chapter 1 - An Ending and a Beginning**

The war was over, Voldemort was dead, and good had triumphed over evil.

Only the terrifically naive and the frustratingly obtuse believed that would be the end of things.

The battle between good and evil had begun eons ago, and was hardly going to be decided by an arrogant tyrant desperate for immortality and the Boy-Who-Was-Lucky-Enough-To-Get-One-Over-On-The-Ponce.

If things were a little easier for those on the side of good following Voldemort's defeat, it was mostly due to the fact that there were some changes going on among the ranks of the Bad Guys, and partly because the newest commander-in-chief was smart enough to figure out that a reprieve would give their enemies time to lick their wounds, relax, and become complacent. Thus the world continued to turn, without any signs that the Dark Lord's defeat had been just another ruse, and the Ministry once again became a force for order under Kingsley Shacklebolt. As the days turned into weeks and then months, people started falling back into their ordinary patterns, habits established over time, and life more or less returned to normal, or as close to normal as was possible in the wizarding world.

Years would go by before people had any indication that evil was making a comeback. It began with a rash of killings by a vampire in some Muggle village in the middle of nowhere, but before the Ministry could assemble a team to deal with the threat, it simply ceased to exist. Kingsley was smart enough to give his people credit for it, but those in the upper levels of the Ministry knew better, and they were worried.

Six months later, a series of attacks on Muggles in a village not far from where the vampire had been hunting led the Ministry to believe that a dementor was on the loose. The Muggles were unable to see the creature, of course, but the few eyewitness statements from those who were spared suggested it was the work of a Dark creature, and there was no way of knowing how many of them had escaped the Ministry's hunt after Voldemort's defeat. Again, however, the attacks stopped before Kingsley could assemble a team to investigate, and life once again returned to normal, the wizarding masses easily fooled by the fabricated story that the dementor had been handled by Harry Potter's team.

Harry didn't like taking the credit for something he knew he hadn't done, but he was talked into it by Hermione, who had proposed the solution to Kingsley in the first place. She was also the one who was convinced that there was something sinister going on behind the scenes, though she hadn't been able to find any proof to that effect. Ron said she was paranoid, and got a week on the couch for his trouble. Hermione couldn't shake her instincts, though, and she began doing her own research, not all of which was sanctioned by her superiors at the Ministry.

It was frustrating, unrewarding work, and eventually she was forced to leave the Ministry altogether because the conflict of interest became too great. No one wanted to hear that there was a pattern behind these events, no one wanted to consider that the death of Tom Riddle might not have been the end of organized evil in the world. Her theories were radical at best, unpopular at worst, and by the tenth anniversary of Voldemort's defeat Hermione had managed to alienate herself from all of her friends. What she didn't know, _couldn't_ know, was that by doing so she was opening herself up to the very things she was looking into so hard, and hers was a light that the forces of darkness would be only too happy to extinguish.


	2. Chapter 2  Uncomfortable Truths

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Uncomfortable Truths<strong>

In the plush, expensively-decorated boardroom of Nott Enterprises, Theodore Nott stood looking out at the city of London. Located on the tenth storey of a magically disguised building in the heart of the Muggle business district, the outside wall of the boardroom was made entirely of spell-reinforced glass, and the view was quite impressive, most days. The shroud of rain clouds that had hung low in the sky for the past three days made it rather less so today, and Theo found that it suited his mood. He turned abruptly, focusing his attention on the room's other occupant, who looked back at him with a nonchalant expression. "You're sure this information is accurate?"

"It's been confirmed by no less than four different sources." Blaise Zabini lounged in a chair at the table, a cup of coffee held lazily in one hand. "I should be offended that you're asking. You know I wouldn't present you with anything I hadn't verified."

Theo glared at him, but Blaise didn't so much as blink. "One of these days, you really will outlive your usefulness," he snarled, turning back to the window.

"True," Blaise agreed, still damnably nonchalant, "but not today." He sipped from the cup, then set it down on the table. "You've been dancing around this for months, Theo. It's time to act, if this is what you want. We won't get another opportunity like this one, and you know that as well as I do."

This, Theo reflected, was why he rarely allowed anyone else in the room when he met with Blaise, because only Blaise could talk to him like this without fear of dire retribution. Someday, he probably _would_ end up dead by Theo's hand, but not while he was still a useful tool in Theo's master plan. He reined in his temper, turning back to the man who was, for all intents and purposes, his right hand. "Your team is ready for this?"

"Hand-picked them and trained them myself," Blaise confirmed, the lazy demeanor vanishing now that they were talking business. "All foreign talent, couldn't risk using anyone local in case something went wrong."

All easily expendable, too, Theo knew. "And the charm work?"

"Tracey will handle it, the day of. She's come a long way since you let her pick that Unspeakable's brain, by-the-by. Stroke of genius, that."

Theo allowed himself the faintest of smiles. "I read the report. It was quite riveting, I must say. The Department of Mysteries is three steps ahead of everyone else on thought security. Shame they're not more pain-resistant."

"They've gotten lax," Blaise scoffs lightly. "You'd think, of anyone, the Unspeakables would know better, but apparently that damage to the Hall of Prophecy years back is still hampering them."

"One more thing we can thank the old guard for."

"Is that a note of sarcasm I detect in your voice?"

"It's been too fucking easy, Blaise." This was Theo's primary concern, and had been from the beginning. "You would think, after Riddle, that people would have learned to keep an eye out, would have learned some sense of self-preservation, would have _stopped_ being such fucking _sheep_." He stopped himself, reining his temper in again and lifting both hands to massage his temples. "There's been no challenge, no official investigation by the Ministry, and the _one_ person who's taken notice has been spurned, reviled, outcast."

"You can't say it hasn't been for lack of trying," Blaise pointed out. "You gave them the opportunity to do something to save themselves, after all. The fact remains that people, on the whole, would rather not deal with such uncomfortable truths. They would rather feel safe, be complacent, lambs to the slaughter up until the moment the lion finally opens his jaws, and by then it's too late."

Theo looked back at the view, the rain clouds pressing down on the city. "Am I doing the right thing, Blaise?"

"No," his friend replied. "You're doing the _necessary_ thing, and doing a much better job of it than the last three or four wizards who've bungled their way along."

An uncomfortable truth, but unlike the sheep that the rest of the population had become, Theo faced it head-on, with grace and dignity. It was the other reason he kept Blaise around, because Blaise always told him what he needed to hear. "Give the word," he said, finally. "The night of the Anniversary Ball, Granger is ours."


	3. Chapter 3  Kidnapping

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - Kidnapping<strong>

The tenth anniversary of Voldemort's defeat was to be celebrated by a spectacular charity ball. The gala event was the talk of the wizarding world, as everyone speculated on who would attend and who would not. Invitations were sent out all over Britain, and entrance required a modest fee, with the proceeds to benefit the Orphans' Fund.

Hermione, engrossed as she was in her research, ignored pleas from her former friends, telling all of them that she was too close to finding an answer to the question no one else would ask. She turned them away every time they dropped in or called to talk to her about it, until finally the visits and the calls stopped. None of them wanted to hear about her research, her theories, but she knew she was getting close to figuring it all out.

The night of the ball found Hermione settled on the sofa in her flat's living room, with books and papers scattered around her, though most of them were within easy reach. The only pattern she'd been able to find in the attacks was that in each case the perpetrator was stopped before the Ministry was able to mobilize a team. Prior to leaving the Ministry, she'd made copies of the existing case files, and Harry had brought her others for a while after she'd finally resigned. That had stopped just over a year ago, and all she had on the most recent incidents was what little she had been able to glean from the papers, both wizarding and Muggle.

Her latest attempt to find an answer had yielded nothing, and she was just sitting back with a frustrated sigh when the lights went out. Instantly, she was on her feet, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. That was when she realized that the glow-stones she'd placed in strategic locations in the event of a power failure weren't working the way they were supposed to, either. A rush of adrenaline and anticipation coursed through her, and she crouched to make herself a smaller target, her lips moving soundlessly as she wove a quick magical shield around herself. After a moment's thought, she added a layer to prevent physical attacks, and a moment later there was a soft puff of air followed by a ripple of energy as something impacted that second shield.

A voice spoke, entirely too close for comfort, but she didn't understand the words; she whirled toward it and cast a silent Stupefy, the red light of her spell illuminating the room for the span of a few seconds. She picked out several other possible targets, her mind automatically comparing this information with the layout of the room's furniture, plotting an escape route. There was no time to think about who these people were or why they were in her flat, though she could guess easily enough that it had to do with what she'd been working on. A spell flashed from another part of the room, but it went too far left of her to even need to worry about it other than to cast another silent Stupefy in the direction of the caster.

More voices, all of them in different languages, and two more spells came at her. The shield charm brightened, then flickered and winked out of existence; before she had a chance to replace it, a woman's voice said, "Incarcerous." Immediately, Hermione found herself bound by the conjured ropes, unable to move so much as a finger, and she toppled to the carpeted floor.

Footsteps approached her, and Hermione peered upward, trying to see something, anything, in the slowly returning light from the glow-stones. She caught a flash of blonde hair, a pale face that looked familiar, and she gasped in surprise before letting out a whisper of, "I know you."

"No," came the reply, the woman's voice as cold as ice, "you really don't." The lights were going out again, and Hermione barely heard the Stupefy that finally knocked her out, she only knew that everything went dark.


	4. Chapter 4  A Storm is Coming

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 - A Storm is Coming<strong>

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was awash in light. Headmistress McGonagall had graciously opened the Great Hall at the request of the committee that had planned the Anniversary Ball, and the wards on the school ensured that there would be no uninvited guests. A pair of Aurors at the gates checked invitations, double-checking the names on the list of approved attendees provided by Ginevra Weasley-Potter, who had chaired the committee.

Everyone who was anyone was in attendance, most prominently those from the Order of the Phoenix. Among this crowd, always on the fringes and rarely the center of attention, Theo was mingling. It had taken him the better part of the last decade to gain acceptance into this group, and while there were some who still questioned his place among them, his financial support had come in fairly handy on more than one occasion. His contribution to the newest Minister of Magic's election campaign, for instance, had ensured that the Minister's wife would insist on his presence at this affair.

"I can't thank you enough for your assistance this year, Mr. Nott," Ginny Potter was saying, sipping from a glass of champagne.

"There's no need to be so formal," he replied, managing a smile that he hoped didn't look as false as it felt. "Please, my friends call me Theo, and I'd be honored if you would do so, as well."

She smiled at him. "Theo it is, then. If I might ask, why /did/ you contribute so much to Harry's campaign? From what little I know about you, you try to avoid politics."

Theo considered her for a moment, as well as the possible answers he could give to her question. Finally, he settled for asking her a question in return, "Do you believe in fate, Mrs. Potter?"

"Oh, but you must call me Ginny, if we're to be such good friends. As to your question, it's rather hard not to, given the role it's played in my husband's life. Are you implying that the outcome of the election was foreseen?"

"There are some who would laugh at such a thing, but there are others who believe that everything happens for a reason, that there is some grand design behind all of our motives, and the signs are there for those who know how to interpret them." He paused, waiting to see what her reaction would be, but before she had a chance to respond, the doors to the Great Hall exploded outward, throwing the party into chaos.

"Stay behind me," Ginny commanded, stepping between Theo and whatever threat was coming through the door, her wand in hand. All over the room, the crowd was divided into those who were panicking and those who had kept their heads enough to assess the danger and assume a protective posture.

If Theo hadn't been so furious, he might have found it amusing that a woman who barely came up to his shoulders was offering to protect him. As the smoke cleared to reveal the tall, cloaked figure, it took every ounce of willpower not to curse the thing into next week. The hood of the cloak was pulled up to obscure the face, and additional glamours were also in place to conceal the person's identity as it glided into the hall.

"I bring a message from the forces of darkness." The deep male voice was unnaturally loud over the chaos of the hall, and many people who had been making noise stopped as the words sank in. "A storm is coming, the likes of which wizardkind has never seen before. You have disregarded the warnings you were given, refused to recognize the danger while you had a chance, and now it is too late. Soon, the endgame will begin." Several spells fired at the figure, but they passed right through; the figure itself shimmered and then disappeared altogether, revealing that it had been an illusion all along.

Theo was beside himself with rage, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack from the strain. He felt something touch his arm, and whipped his head toward whoever it was, fully prepared to deal a verbal lashing, only to soften at the last second when he realized it was Ginny.

"Are you all right, Theo?" she asked him, looking genuinely concerned. "You don't look so well."

"I'm fine," he managed to answer, after a moment spent reminding himself to relax. "That was... strange, wasn't it?"

"If by strange you mean creepy, then yeah, it was. Listen, will you be all right on your own? I should really go find Harry."

"Don't trouble yourself, Ginny, I'm fine. Family first, right? Besides, there's Blaise, he'll see to it that I make it home in one piece."

After she'd left, Theo hissed at Blaise, "You owe me an explanation, as soon as we're out of here." Whoever had pulled that little stunt was going to pay for it in spades.


	5. Chapter 5  Occlumency

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 - Occlumency<strong>

"What the /fuck/ was that?" Theo roared, as soon as the door to his office had closed, ensuring their privacy.

"A diversion," Blaise replied coolly.

"Did I /ask/ you for a fucking diversion? I'm bloody fucking positive I didn't see one in the mission statement for tonight's activities. Because I sure as hell would have said 'no' if I'd seen it!"

"It was improvised."

"Improvised? Since when do you improvise?" Theo glared at Blaise, and then glared harder. "Who are you covering for?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"The fuck you don't." Theo took a deep breath, regaining control of himself, knowing the outright display of fury was never an effective means of dealing with Blaise. "I'm not going to ask you again, Blaise. Who is it?"

Blaise stared back at him, unblinking and silent.

"Are you really going to make me rip it out of your head?" Theo asked him quietly. "You don't actually think the protections you have on your mind are going to be any match for me, do you?"

"I'm willing to take my chances."

"Have it your way, then. Legilimens." Theo's voice was a mere whisper as he spoke the incantation, slipping into Blaise's mind with an ease that only came from repeated practice. Images assaulted him from every side, the first layer of defense, but he ignored them, focused on his goal. Blaise was a fairly accomplished Occlumens, and the Occlumency shield behind that wall of false images was a good one; Theo was better, though, and his spell shredded through Blaise's shield as though it were so much wet paper.

He heard Blaise make a pained sound, and he paused, maintaining his spell even as he pushed himself to ask aloud, "A name, Blaise? Let me assure you, the pain you've felt so far is nothing compared to what I can do to you."

"All right," Blaise said, his voice hoarse. "Goyle. It was Goyle."

The truth of his words reverberated through his mental landscape, and Theo retreated in shock. He spent a moment regaining his composure, heard Blaise beside him recovering from the assault, and then they were facing each other again. "Make it look like an accident," he finally said, before turning his back on his friend. For once, there was no complaint, no protest, simply compliance on Blaise's part, and Theo reflected that perhaps he should do this more often, if that was all it took to get Blaise to shut up.


	6. Chapter 6  The Mystery Employer

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 - The Mystery Employer<strong>

Awareness returned to Hermione slowly, and she was surprised to find herself in what appeared to be a well-appointed hotel room. Her memories were a bit hazy, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position and let out a faint whimper as the movement caused her head to pound.

"You'll want to move slowly, for a little while." The voice was feminine, smooth and cool and rather detached, and it came from Hermione's right. "I've been told my Stupefy packs quite a punch, and my employer will be quite cross if you are presented to him in anything less than pristine condition."

Hermione turned her head, even though it hurt to do so, and saw again the familiar-looking blonde woman. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"You may call me Tracey," the woman replied, inclining her head ever so slightly. "As to where you are, the answer isn't nearly as simple, nor is it mine to give. Suffice it to say that you are in a place where your questions will finally be answered."

"I'm a prisoner, then." It wasn't a question, and something about the woman's lack of emotion was disturbing.

"My employer would prefer you to think of yourself as a guest. Circumstances made it necessary for us to ensure your arrival, but from what I understand the choice of whether you stay is entirely yours, once you've met with my employer."

"After what you've done to me? You /kidnapped/ me!" Hermione wasn't sure what bothered her more, the woman's continuing display of cool professionalism or the idea that they thought so little of her they were willing to let her go, as if what she knew was of no consequence.

"You have no proof of that." The woman's words sent a chill down Hermione's spine, and she repressed the urge to shiver. "There is nothing out of place in your home, nothing to indicate anything of the ordinary happened there, and anyone who comes calling will find only a single piece of luggage and some clothing missing, along with yourself. Our people were quite thorough. As to those who were involved, only you and I retain knowledge of what happened, the others have had their memories altered, and I can assure you I left no loose ends when I restructured their new memories."

"There are trace magics," Hermione protested weakly, but she got no further because the woman's lips were curving into a very faint smile that chilled her further.

"Trace magics are easy enough to eliminate, if one knows what to look for. Belive me, Miss Granger, when I say that /I/ know what to look for." The chilly smile faded, and Hermione was almost relieved to see her go back to her former reserved air. "How's your head?"

"Better," Hermione replied, upon realizing that her head was no longer pounding. There was still a dull ache at the base of her neck, but it, too, was starting to fade.

"Good. You'll want to freshen up, I expect." The woman drew her wand and waved it toward a door, which opened to reveal a bathroom. "There's a change of clothes laid out for you, as well. I took the liberty of selecting a few items from your closet."

"My wand?" Hermione asked, half afraid of the answer but needing to know anyway.

"My employer is holding it for you. To guarantee your cooperation to meet with him, I suspect."

Another reference to the mysterious employer. Hermione slid off the bed and paused for a moment to make sure she had her balance before heading for the bathroom, noting as she walked that any alternate exits had been well-secured. Even if she'd had her wand, escape would have been difficult, without it there was no way she was leaving unless they let her. She still didn't believe they'd just let her go, but presently a meeting with the mystery employer seemed preferably to sitting in the 'guest' chambers staring at the wall.

She closed the bathroom door, and was relieved that there was no protest from the woman who seemed to have been appointed the task of watching her. Her clothes felt as though she'd spent three days in them, and frankly she was glad of a chance to wash up a bit and change into something that wasn't so uncomfortably wrinkled. White t-shirt and blue jeans, with a soft blue jumper that Molly Weasley had given her two Christmases ago, and once she was dressed again she felt much better, more like herself.

Upon opening the door, she let out a little squeak and stepped back in surprise at finding Tracey right there on the other side. The woman arched a brow at Hermione's apparent distress, but otherwise there was no reaction. "Much improved," she said, finally stepping back with a nod. "Follow me, please."

"Where?" Even as Hermione spoke, she was following, because her curiosity was too great for her /not/ to.

"My employer is ready to see you now," came the cool reply. "He is not the sort of man one keeps waiting." Her voice was as dispassionate as ever, but Hermione detected a sense of urgency about her, in the pace she kept as she led the way down a hall, and she found herself wondering again about this mystery employer.


	7. Chapter 7  The Meeting

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 7 - The Meeting<strong>

Theo stood in the boardroom, looking out at the view without really seeing it. The skies were clear, which some might take as a good omen, but he was still simmering from the events of the night before, although he didn't particularly regret the loss of a non-asset such as Goyle. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to calm and focus; he couldn't afford any distractions in this meeting. The door opened, and he could see the faint outline of her figure reflected in the glass as his guest entered the room, closing the door behind her. He waited for her to get closer before finally turning to smile at her and offer a greeting.

Her shock was visible in her expression and in the way she held herself, and it was followed almost immediately by anger. Theo found that he rather enjoyed having surprised her, and allowed himself the faintest of smirks at her discomfort. After assuring her that he'd arranged for her presence in order to answer some of her questions, he invited her to sit, gesturing toward a chair so that it slid away from the table for her. He issued a silent summons for tea, and the house-elves obliged while remaining invisible, lest their presence upset her.

The tea gave her a chance to voice her doubts, her disbelief that he could possibly be responsible for everything she'd been investigating for the better part of the last decade. He allowed her the opportunity to express herself, and had to wonder if she'd always been so chatty. It was a habit he would have to curb, and he made a mental note of it for later as he finally interrupted her.

"You don't think I'm capable of it, is that it?" He tilted his head slightly, observing her quietly until she started to squirm at his close scrutiny of her; he had phrased the question carefully, his voice soft and his tone slightly cool as he waited for her reaction.

Her mouth opened, then closed, as she considered the question. "I suppose I don't really know _what_ you're capable of," she finally admitted.

It was precisely the opening that he'd been looking for, and he was quick to seize the moment. "I'll be honest with you, I never considered myself to be first choice for this position," he told her. It was mostly true, so his 'honesty' appeared quite genuine. "Certainly, none of my fellow Slytherins would have predicted it, back before the end of the war." With the exception of Blaise, who knew better than anyone else what Theo was capable of, that statement was also true. "And yet, here I am, with the resources and power at my disposal."

"The resources and power of _what_, exactly?" she wanted to know, and the open curiosity on her face combined with the way she leaned toward him told him that she was buying his story.

With just a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, Theo replied, "To borrow from the cliche, the resources and power of the forces of darkness." He arched an eyebrow at the disbelief in her expression, as if he hadn't expected that to be her reaction. "You didn't think such things were random, did you? That Riddle and Grindelwald happened upon their power by accident? There are reasons behind such things, Hermione. The universe has a purpose, a grand design for good and evil. I didn't ask to be the one in charge, but now that I'm here, there's no going back, and failure is not an option I can accept. It is, perhaps, the reason I was chosen to take up this role." The delivery was timed perfectly, sounding just rushed enough to make her think he was desperate for her approval and understanding, yet still vague enough that his true motives remained a mystery. He drew back, artfully feigning nervousness, as if he'd given too much away.

"Is that what this has all been about, then?" she sneered, the scorn twisting her expression. In spite of himself, Theo was almost glad to see it, was glad to see that the pursuit of knowledge hadn't completely driven the fire out of her. He had plans for that fire. "The same old rhetoric? Eradicate or enslave Muggles and Muggle-borns so that the pure-bloods can interbreed themselves into extinction?"

Theo's eyes widened in faux horror that he knew appeared quite genuine, and he shook his head as he hurried to correct her assumption. "I'd like to think of myself as being slightly more imaginative than my predecessors," he said, with a disdainful sniff. "After all, it's been tried before and failed, and I'm hardly going to waste my time attempting to resurrect ideas that should have been wiped out over a century ago. Besides, Riddle himself was a half-blood, which made the old guard's views that much more hypocritical, really." This was the easiest part, and he knew she'd believe it because even though his father had been outed as a Death Eater, Theo had taken care never to go anywhere near that path, however chummy Malfoy had occasionally tried to be, back in school.

Her disbelief was clear, and he wondered if she was thinking back on those Hogwarts years, looking for a memory to condemn him with. This concerned him not at all, because he knew that such a mental search would turn up nothing; he'd learned to be careful in his thoughts and words and deeds long before entering the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

When discussion resumed, she was still skeptical, but her questions suggested that she was at least willing to hear him out, and so began the delicate tightrope walk of laying out his plans for her, or at least as much of them as he was willing to share at this juncture. It was a bold move, a calculated risk, and to her it must have seemed a leap of faith, because she didn't know him well enough to have any idea of just how calculated the risk was. It was still too early for her to be able to comprehend the ambition behind his meticulous attention to detail in every aspect of his grand scheme, but he'd been through this scenario so many times in his head that he had a fair idea of what her responses were going to be even before she did.

It was a delicate process, the careful manipulation of words and expressions, but Theo had long since turned it into something of an art form, and certainly Hermione never had the slightest suspicion that she was being led by the nose to precisely where he wanted her. She played into his hands without ever realizing it was what she'd done, and he gave her strings the slightest of tugs, the gentlest of pushes. When she refused his initial offer to join him, her tone one of righteous indignation, she had every reason to believe she was doing so of her own volition, and Theo felt a heady thrill at having her so close to hand. He sowed the seeds of doubt almost as an afterthought, just before opening the door to hand her over to Tracey, who would escort her back to the guest quarters. What she didn't hear, of course, was the single non-verbal command he issued to the woman whose skill in mind-magics almost rivalled his own, "Proceed with Plan B."


	8. Chapter 8  Of Memories and Dreams

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 - Of Memories and Dreams<strong>

Hermione awoke in her flat, on the sofa, groggy and disoriented. The papers she'd been working with were in disarray, swept aside from where she'd slumped over in the midst of her research, and a few were crumpled from having been slept on. She had the nagging sense that something was wrong, and then the memories returned in a rush: her abduction the night of the ball, the mysterious Tracey woman and her equally mysterious employer, Theodore Nott's mad plan for world domination...

The world tipped and spun, then righted itself, leaving her feeling slightly nauseous as a result. She felt distinctly out of sorts, as if she'd slept too long and had forgotten something important, and for all that the memories seemed so real and vivid, there was a very dreamlike quality to the whole thing, too. The fact that she'd woken up in her flat, on her sofa, confused her, and she could see nothing out of the ordinary about the immediate area, no sign of a struggle, but that only brought back the woman's voice saying how thorough she'd been. Hermione shivered and drew her wand, staring at it blankly for a moment as she tried to recall when it had been returned to her. The fact that she couldn't remember led more credence to the theory that she'd dreamed the encounter, but she checked her wards and other protective charms anyway, unsure whether she should be relieved or frustrated when she found no evidence to suggest they'd been tampered with.

Green fire erupted in her fireplace, and she whirled toward it suddenly, then felt slightly ridiculous for being so paranoid when Ron poked his head through. "Crikey, Hermione, it's only me!"

"What do you want, Ronald?" she asked, more impatiently than she would have if she hadn't been so rattled.

He looked wounded, which immediately made her feel guilty, which then led to her trying to make up for it by attempting to explain herself, the vivid memories that she knew were true memories in spite of the dream-quality they still held in her mind. It was, she later reflected, far from being the smartest thing she'd ever done, as Ron's reaction was fairly typical: he alternated between asking if she was feeling all right and asking if she was completely mental. When she finally tired of the lack of support, she pointed her wand at the fireplace, and was mildly grateful that Ron actually took the hint for once and disappeared.

The entire encounter left her shaken to the point of questioning her sanity, but she was even more shaken when she checked the post and found three days' worth sitting in a neat pile below the post slot in her door. Three issues of the Daily Prophet sat on the floor, their unread headlines glaring at her and mocking her by turns. She had lost three days, been missing for _three days_, and she'd withdrawn from her friends so much that none of them had even noticed.

She was sick with worry and fear, the realization that her memories were truth weighing heavily on her mind. There had to be someone left, someone she could trust, someone she could confide in. Gathering up the papers, she tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace before stating her destination clearly, "The Ministry of Magic."

It had been so long since she'd been a mere visitor at the Ministry that she'd forgotten about the tediousness of the checking-in process until she was halfway through it, her impatience growing with every wasted second that passed. Her wand was analyzed and recorded, as was her magical signature, and she would have balked at the requests for a strand of hair and a drop of blood if she hadn't been so adamant that those security precautions be added in the first place, back in her early days at the Ministry. Not all visitors were required to present such additional forms of proof of identity, but the screening process had gotten rather stricter in the post-war era, and some part of her found it rather comforting that the procedures were still being followed, even if several of her colleagues had called her a paranoid hysteria-monger.

Kingsley's restructure of the Ministry had relocated the Minister's office to a new Administrative floor, which made it easier to locate, once her visitor's pass was approved. Unfortunately, it meant a further delay in the person of the Minister's Under-Secretary, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was another Weasley, particularly the self-important Percy. She was still trying to impress upon him the importance of needing to see Harry (she could not, for the life of her, call him 'Minister Potter' the way Percy did) when the man himself appeared, saving the day. After waving off Percy's protests that he didn't have time to be entertaining unscheduled visitors, he escorted her into his office and listened while she proceeded to tell her story.

The stress and frustration of trying to get in to see him, however, combined with the lingering temper from her conversation with Ron, and even Hermione was forced to admit that by this point she was starting to sound rather hysterical. Harry's suggestion that she go home and get some rest wasn't well-received, but at least she regained enough control of herself to leave his office without causing more of a scene than she already had. Exiting the Ministry in a huff, she did go home, but she didn't stay there long. After going over her notes again, comparing it to the information she knew to be true, she realized the only course of option left to her was to confront Nott himself.

Hermione arrived at Nott Enterprises with her wand in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other, demanding to see Theodore Nott. She forced her way past secretaries and security alike, until she was finally able to confront the mastermind of evil himself with her accusations. When the Ministry arrived, alerted by security, Harry was with them, and he wore his familiar guilty-looking expression as he helped them subdue her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's for your own good." Harry's words, as he signed the paperwork to have her admitted to St. Mungo's, still wearing that guilty expression. They took her wand, dragging her down the hall as she screamed...

... biting back a scream, Hermione awoke in her flat, on the sofa, groggy and disoriented.


	9. Chapter 9  Seat of Power

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong> Chapter 9 - Seat of Power<strong>

It was raining again. Ordinarily, Theo didn't mind the rain, even though his view of the city was admittedly better when the skies were clear. That the rain had settled in shortly after his meeting with Hermione was at best a coincidence, but once again it suited his mood, and he wasn't sure he ought to approve of the weather, in that case. Such thoughts had a way of getting to one's head, and he needed to keep his head out of the clouds, so to speak.

His office took up a fairly large corner of the top floor of the building, and both outside walls had been fitted floor-to-ceiling with the same spell-reinforced glass that took up a wall of the boardroom. He'd hired a professional to decorate the interior, and the end result was tastefully posh and slightly intimidating, much like Theo himself; in spite of this, he rarely took meetings in his office, preferring the elegant and impressive boardroom when he needed to deal with someone publically. His office was reserved for himself, and it was a retreat where he could review reports in peace, fine-tune his many plans, and, if one listened to Blaise (which Theo made a point of only rarely doing), to brood.

The door opened to admit Blaise, one of a handful of people allowed to disturb his peace (the very short list included Tracey as well as Theo's secretary-of-the-week). His tie was loosened, his shirt slightly askew and his hair somewhat mussed, and he was looking distinctly put out. "Time for a new one," he said, gesturing toward the door to indicate the unseen secretary's desk. "She's starting to get clingy."

It was true, Theo reflected, he'd held on to this most recent secretary longer than was usual. He wasn't going to say as much to Blaise, however, and instead regarded his friend with a level stare. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Blaise replied mildly, settling himself in one of the chairs on the other side of Theo's desk. "How long has it been since you went home for the night?"

"Who made you my fucking nanny?" Theo snapped, his eyes narrowing to a glare.

"You did," came Blaise's reply, his eyebrow arching in silent amusement. "It's why you put up with me. Mother-henning you incessantly is how I get my revenge for it."

Theo continued to glare silently for several moments, and then Blaise smirked, completely disarming his anger. "I really hate you sometimes," he sighed, turning his head back to the window.

"Hasn't exactly been a picnic for me, either."

Blaise's tone had Theo looking back at him with an incredulous snort. "Since when? You _did_ volunteer for this, after all."

"Free will's a bitch," Blaise agreed, with a nod. "At least this way, I can blame everything on you."

"Which is precisely what we agreed to." Theo sat back, regarding his friend carefully. "What's really on your mind, Blaise? If this is about Hermione again, you can save the lecture."

"Go home, Theo." Blaise's smirk was gone, his expression for once sober almost to the point of concern. "Have a decent meal, sleep in a proper bed."

"I've slept in a proper bed," Theo hedged, glancing past Blaise to the leather couch he'd been transfiguring the last few nights.

Blaise snorted. "You're not helping anyone, least of all yourself, with this behavior. As a matter of fact, you're acting like a spoiled child, and it's damned irritating. Especially since _I'm_ supposed to be the immature one in our dysfunctional relationship."

"We're not _that_ dysfunctional," Theo protested, rolling his eyes as he looked back at Blaise.

"I beg to differ," Blaise replied, critically examining his fingernails rather than look directly at Theo. "Our brotherly dynamic was shaped and molded and carefully crafted according to _your_ design, it's not exactly what one would call _normal_, Theo."

"The fact that I want to kill you at least three times a day is _absolutely_ normal," Theo hissed at him.

Blaise smirked, looking up to meet Theo's gaze across the desk. "Only thrice daily? I'm losing my touch."

The joke caught and held, and Theo felt himself smile in response. "I've been busy," he admitted.

"You don't say," Blaise drawled. "Look, if it will appease what's left of your conscience, I'll stay here tonight. _You_ go home, let the elves pamper you, get some proper rest. I'm tired of listening to the blasted things whine about your welfare."

"That explains things," Theo said drily, smirking. He did, however, heave himself out of the chair. "Fine. If there's the slightest change, though..."

"...I'll be sure you're notified immediately," Blaise finished, waving a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes."

Theo started toward the door, then paused, turning back with a wicked grin. "Oh, and call down to Human Resources, let them know I'm in need of a replacement. Feel free to give the girl her walking papers, though."

Blaise's eyes narrowed, but he returned the grin, his expression almost wolfish. "Such a hardship, dismissing your staff. I'll be sure to make good use of the opportunity."

"I have every confidence you'll handle it as only you can."


	10. Chapter 10  The House of Nott

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 10 - The House of Nott<strong>

The House of Nott was neither Ancient or Most Noble, for all that the family had been around nearly as long as the Blacks. On the rare occasion that Theo was in the mood to think about such weighty things as the family's history, he often suspected that the lack of status was directly due to centuries spent on the sidelines; what he knew of his father and grandfather certainly seemed to support this theory. They were not well-known, nor were they particularly well-liked (indeed, what few social graces Theo himself had possessed upon starting school had been entirely due to his late mother's influence); but they were possessed of a singularly rare gift: they could read potential with rather frightening clarity.

According to his grandfather, Nicodemus, the talent was rare even within the family, and practically unheard-of outside of it. Family lore suggested it was a bastardization of the gift of prophecy, and about as reliable; nevertheless, Theo had been terrified when, as a toddler, he saw the sickly greyish nimbus of light around his mother's head as she sat sewing in her favorite chair, and more so three weeks later, when she succumbed to the strange illness that the Healers could find no cure for. The same 'illness' later claimed his grandfather's life, as well, but by then Theo was old enough to recognize his father's skill with dark and obscure potions; it was his grandfather who had explained that the rivalry between father and son was inevitable, and often lethal as the balance of power shifted within the family dynamic.

Nicodemus had also taught his grandson the rudimentary mental disciplines he would later use to learn Occlumency, as well as the art of self-control. Under the elder Nott's tutelage, Theo honed and sharpened his gift, learning to interpret the threads of potential when he saw them; he learned, too, how to close himself off so that his thoughts were known only to himself, which was as much a survival technique as a way of life, once he arrived at school. The tall, withdrawn, somewhat socially awkward and bookish boy that Theo was in his youth drew little attention to himself, and few ever suspected that he was anything other than what he appeared to be.

Arriving in the house's foyer, Theo paused to allow the elves to fawn over him, as was their wont. His requests were simple, and the little creatures were practically tripping over themselves to comply, disappearing with a cacophony of cracks as he turned his attention to the portraits. One of the first things he'd done, as master of the house, had been to cast a series of silencing charms on the portraits; they were, for all intents and purposes, considered to be permanent, though he could remove them if the mood for conversation struck him and no one else was at hand. Thaddeus Nott's portrait was displayed rather prominently for a number of reasons, one of which had to do with the mirror that hung next to it. Theo faced it squarely, contemplating his father's features, then comparing them to his own in the reflection beside it: the same patrician features, the same dark hair with a tendency to curl if left too long (not that his father had ever let his hair grow, but he'd seen pictures from his father's school days that suggested the tendency was there), their eyes were even the same shade of forget-me-not blue.

Their similarities ended at the physical, however, and Theo turned away from both portrait and mirror to walk down the hall to the library. The elves had been in ahead of him, of course, so that his preferred table to sit at already had the tea service waiting for him, and more wood had been added to the fire in the hearth. Seating himself in the chair, he sipped from the teacup and contemplated his next move; he knew Blaise would alert him if there were anything to report, but it didn't make the waiting any easier, and Theo was oddly restless.

He knew his plan was sound, knew that having Granger as an addition to the 'family' of talented individuals that he'd gathered around himself was a wise decision, particularly if the conditioning was as successful as he hoped it would be. It was, he felt, the key difference between himself and those wizards who'd gone before him; others had gathered followers, certainly, but those so-called leaders had assumed control by fear and intimidation when charisma failed, and in both cases had deeply underestimated their opposition. Theo wasn't about to make that mistake; it was one of the reasons why he'd become as skilled in mind-magics as he had.

A noise sounded from the foyer, the distinctive crack alerting him to his visitor's identity even before he heard the clearing of a throat from the doorway. "Come in, Draco," he said, without looking away from the fireplace.

"He knows all, he sees all, the omniscient Theodore Nott." Malfoy's voice dripped sarcasm, as he crossed the room to sit in the chair closest to Theo. "One of these days, you really will have to give up the secrets behind your little parlor tricks."

"No tricks, Draco, you're just embarrassingly predictable." Theo finally turned his attention to his visitor, arching an eyebrow expectantly. "You have news?"

"Mm. Potter took the bait. He sent a squad to comb through Granger's flat." He paused, then added, "They found nothing, of course."

"Don't sound so disappointed, Draco."

"I'll admit I have some reservations where Granger is concerned. Are you sure this is the best way to go about securing her cooperation?"

"Must I remind you again that it's not your place to be questioning my plans?" Theo was careful to keep his tone cool, almost bored-sounding, as a warning.

Malfoy winced, shaking his head. "No, no reminder will be necessary. Still, even _you_ have to admit that it's a bit of a risk, snatching one of Potter's best friends out from under his nose."

"Ah, but she's not in his circle any more, remember? And since he seems to have dropped the proverbial ball regarding his friendship with Granger, you can hardly blame me for wanting to scoop it up. Brightest witch of our age, and all of that." Theo tilted his head slightly, regarding Malfoy more closely, and remarked, "If this is your way of expressing displeasure at having to keep tabs on Potter the toerag, let me reassure you that those days are coming to an end."

"It's true, maintaining the pretense of civility around Potty and the Weasel on a daily basis has had rather a detrimental effect on my manners," Malfoy agreed, with a smirk. "At least with Granger there's intelligent conversation. If I never hear about Quidditch again, it'll be too soon, and to think I used to like the game."

"Tsk. Such a hardship, I'm sure. Perhaps I'll arrange a vacation for you once Granger's been inducted into the family. Somewhere sunny, hm? You can take that girl you've been seeing. Astoria. Daphne's sister, isn't she?"

"It's exceedingly annoying that you keep tabs on every aspect of my personal life, you know that?"

"We're family."

"You're worse than my mother."

"Oh, now that hurts, Draco. At least I don't call you by some ridiculous pet name. What was it? Boo-boo bear?"

"You _are_ worse than my mother." Malfoy sighed and shook his head. "So, you finish with Granger and then what? Finally take over the world?"

"Ah, now that would be telling. Granger is the final piece I need in play, and then we begin the endgame. So much untapped potential in that brilliant mind of hers, just as there was with yours before we unlocked it. It's why I need to keep her relatively intact, rather than simply breaking her outright. I don't expect it to be all that problematic, though."

Malfoy nodded, but he was looking thoughtful, and Theo waited expectantly for him to finally get to whatever else had brought him by. "The guest list for the ball has been checked and double checked, and Potter seems to think that Goyle was behind what happened."

"I see. Such a shame that our dear Gregory isn't available for questioning."

"It did have all the subtlety of a brick, yes. Still, the illusion seemed rather elaborate, for Goyle. He's never been particularly good at charmwork. Or planning, for that matter. Someone else may have pushed his buttons, then left him to hang." Malfoy inclined his head, then added, "I thought I should let you know."

Theo frowned. He'd been trying not to think too hard about Blaise's admission that Goyle had been behind the events at the Ball, but Malfoy's instincts were generally reliable. It was one of the reasons Theo had sent him to spy on the Ministry, and he'd proved damn good at it. "I'll keep it in mind. Anything else?"

"No, I'm done. I'll see myself out, shall I?"

"Yes, do that." Theo returned his attention to the fireplace, frowning at the flames as he mulled over the information Draco had brought.


	11. Chapter 11  Acquiescence

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 11 - Acquiescence<strong>

Hermione was dreaming again. At least, she thought she was dreaming. She didn't know how many cycles of the dream she'd been through, having lost track after the first half-dozen, but the fact that she had 'awakened' once again on her sofa indicated that this was another dream. Occasionally, she'd awaken in the posh hotel room and repeat her conversation with Tracey, then meet again with Theo, though she was beginning to suspect that the latter was also part of the dream. Sometimes, when she woke to see Tracey, she'd have lunch or tea, which suggested the passage of time, but she'd lost count of those episodes, too. She knew her sanity was starting to slip, could tell that her grip of reality wasn't as solid as she'd thought, and wondered if she didn't belong in St. Mungo's after all, or perhaps a padded cell in some psychiatric hospital would be a better place for her.

The door to her room opened, and Theo entered. Hermione sat up a bit, confused by this change of events, wondering why he was in this part of her dream when he didn't belong here. It was out of place, lending the dream an even more surreal feel.

She asked him why he'd come, and he offered her a way out, offered deliverance. She wasn't sure why it should feel so comforting to hear him say such things, when it was his fault she was in this situation to begin with... Her head swam, and she gave it a shake, trying to clear it. No, Theo wasn't responsible for her situation, it was Harry. Harry, who'd betrayed her trust, who persisted in calling her crazy and paranoid and having her committed over and over...

When Theo spoke again, she listened, and she found herself nodding at intervals, the words making more sense than anything she'd experienced in... she wasn't sure how long it had been, but it felt like weeks. He spoke of his family, a family of witches and wizards he'd selected for their particular talents, and he talked about how she'd be welcome among them, embraced as one of them instead of cast aside and shut out the way she had been by her former friends. He offered to take away the pain of rejection that she'd been feeling, to replace it instead with a sense of belonging.

Her agreement drew a smile from him, and he kissed her forehead and bid her sleep, which for once she was able to do without fear of strange and terrifying dreams.

Tracey sat back and watched the woman sleep, her expression more peaceful than it had been since they'd started this process nearly two weeks ago. Granger had been difficult to break, particularly because Theo had been adamant that she not be permanently damaged; it was, of course, why Tracey herself had handled the task rather than assigning it to one of her underlings. She penned a quick memo on a scrap of parchment, then folded it into an airplane shape and tapped it with her wand to activate the charms on it; the message delivery system was similar to what was used at the Ministry, and as the little plane zipped off to find its target, she sat back to wait patiently for the next phase to begin.


	12. Chapter 12  With Friends Like These

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 12 - With Friends Like These...<strong>

"You're sure she's thoroughly prepared?"

"I said as much, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you've been wrong before, and we can't afford to take any chances."

"I seem to recall telling you when I assisted with your mental shields that they wouldn't stand up to Theo. It's not my fault you neglected to listen to me."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Are you _quite_ sure he hasn't outlived his usefulness, Theo?"

It was requiring effort for Theo to maintain a straight face, with Tracey and Blaise bickering like the siblings he'd essentially turned them into. "Oh, are you including me in this conversation now?" he asked. His tone was light and almost playful, but Tracey colored and murmured an apology; Blaise, unsurprisingly, was still looking smug. "As it happens, I still have some use for Blaise, but I promise you'll be the first to know whenever that changes."

"I love you, too, Theo," Blaise drawled, his mouth twisting into a faint sneer. "I have your best interests at heart, as always. Irritating Tracey is just a bonus."

"It's not my fault you're too thick to retain this information longer than a single sitting," Tracey snapped, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Children, children," Theo interrupted, unable to hide his amusement any longer. "For the sake of moving things along, how about we skip to the part where you simply concede that Tracey outclasses you in all things mind-related, hm?"

That got a laugh out of Tracey, a rare enough occurrence that Blaise didn't even protest. Instead, he said, "All right, then, at the risk of sounding as though I don't know what I'm talking about - especially since we all know I don't - tell me again why Theo's the one who has to do this?"

Tracey sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Because the bond of trust has been established with Theo, so she's less likely to protest having him in her head for this part of the process. Editing memories is a tricky business even under the best of circumstances, and she's fragile enough as it is. Besides, Theo's the only one who knows the full details of his grand scheme, remember? I may outclass _you_ in all things mind-related, but nobody outclasses our darling Theodore."

Blaise, cheeky bastard that he was, fluttered his eyelashes and simpered at Theo. "'Nobody outclasses our darling Theodore,'" he echoed, his voice high in open mockery of Tracey.

"I heard you _tried_," she shot at him, with a rather vicious smirk. "How did that work out for you?"

"I did say I'm still here," Blaise returned, utterly calm and collected; Theo suspected Blaise was maintaining his nonchalant demeanor simply because he knew it would irk Tracey further.

"As entertaining as it is to watch the pair of you bicker like an old married couple, may I remind you both that we have more pressing matters to attend to?" Theo waited for them to return their attention to him before continuing, "Tracey is correct, by the way. It has to be me because the design is mine. I expected this development, and I've made arrangements for my schedule. Blaise, do try not to run the company into the ground while I'm occupied with Granger, would you?" He stood and offered his arm to Tracey, leading the way out of the boardroom.

Once they were out the door, Theo's smile faded, his eyes narrowing just a little as they walked together through the corridors to where Hermione was being kept. Finally, he murmured, just low enough for Tracey to hear him, "Double check Blaise's mental shields and the compulsion spells. Quietly, though, I don't want to alert him just yet."

She inclined her head in a nod, showing her understanding, then left him to confront Hermione on his own. Theo took a moment to fix the benign smile on his face before opening the door.


	13. Chapter 13  Changes

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 - Changes<strong>

Memory, Theo reflected, was truly a subjective and mutative thing; the same series of events, viewed by two separate people, varied widely in the retelling, altered by the basic framework of one's beliefs and knowledge. Hermione's memories were carefully ordered, her entire mental landscape reminiscent almost of a library, which made his task that much easier. Tracey had broken down her defenses enough that it took no effort at all for him to slip past what was left, though he was careful in his editing of her life to date. His purpose, of course, had been perfectly sound and logical: to leave the memories of events themselves intact and merely change her perception of how the events had occurred.

It was a time-consuming, painstaking process, as he scrutinized and analyzed and categorized and sanitized her past. The spellwork wasn't the heavy-handed Obliviate the famous Gilderoy Lockhart had once accidentally used on himself; Theo wielded the charm like the finest of artist's brushes, making only miniscule changes while leaving the rest of her mental landscape intact. He was careful to tie up any loose ends caused by the alterations, and by the time he'd finished the groundwork had been laid for the network of layered compulsion charms; these took less time, mostly because he'd already planned beforehand which charms to weave into the subtle net he left in her mind.

Once her loyalty to him was assured, he turned his attention to the most crucial task of his plan: unlocking the true potential of her magical skill. This was his most closely guarded secret, something his grandfather had hinted was possible but had never had the chance to elaborate upon; it was Theo's father who had inadvertantly pointed him in the right direction and sent him questing through the annals of the family's history. What he'd discovered had shattered his preconceived notions of how magic worked, dissolved the building blocks set in place by the Hogwarts curriculum, and set him on the path to becoming who he was. Ancient journals and records dated before the school's founding had discussed the importance of control, but in an entirely different light from the rote memorization of pre-approved spells that he'd been taught at school.

The dangers involved in unlocking an individual's full magical potential had been one of the reasons Hogwarts had been founded in the first place; such experimentation had proved deadly on more than one occasion. It was why the Hogwarts teachers spent so much time emphasizing the trio of components needed for successful spellcasting: movement, incantation and intent; older students were taught to internalize the incantation, to think instead of speak, but the basic principles remained the same, a rigid cage to direct and limit the powers of the average witch or wizard. Theo was breaking all kinds of rules in the course of following his plan, but it was necessary to achieve his goals; if he occasionally broke the law outright and strayed into questionable moral territory, he justified it as being part of the plan and didn't lose any sleep over it.

By the time Theo was finished, he was exhausted but elated, and he sat back with a tired sigh, dropping his wand. It was too soon to put his work to the test, but he was confident that he'd succeeded in what he'd set out to do. He ran through the rest of the steps in his head, reviewing again the edited version of the encounter in his office: she would remember coming to him the day after the ball, disturbed by her friends' most recent dismissal of her research. It would parallel several other discussions he'd planted among her memories, establishing the pattern of trust; her new perception of his plan had her volunteering to help him, playing on the Gryffindor tendency for saving the world and turning it to his advantage.


	14. Chapter 14  Tracey

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 - Tracey<strong>

Tracey slipped into Theo's office unannounced and waited patiently for his attention. He made her wait, testing her, but she never moved, never fidgeted, never twitched. The others found this behavior unnerving, but he'd always considered her patience to be rather impressive. Finally, he looked up at her and arched a brow, a silent gesture for her to speak.

"You were right," she said, without preamble. There had never been the pretense of meaningless everyday chatter between them, one of the other things he liked about her. "About Blaise. He'd been tampered with."

Theo leaned forward at this, his interest piqued. "Who?"

"I don't know." The mask slipped, betraying her irritation at this answer. "Whoever did it covered their traces; it's nobody we know, that much I can tell you. Someone he met on the Continent while he was hiring for the Granger job, perhaps."

"You're sure?"

"That it's no one we know? Absolutely. We're looking at someone on par with you or I, and we've already gathered the local talent. I may not share your love for Blaise, but he's fairly well-protected, and this wasn't the work of a rank amateur in any case."

"At last, a challenge."

"One worthy of your brilliance, yes." Her tone was as cool as ever, but he detected the note of sarcasm anyway. "Although Granger came pretty damn close, with her self-taught Occlumency. Any idea where she picked that up?"

"Would you believe from Potter?" Tracey snorted, but Theo shook his head. "It's true. Apparently, Snape was attempting to teach him, fifth-year, and failed abysmally. Our little over-achiever took it upon herself to do some research of her own on the subject. Fortunately for us, she didn't have the benefit of the good professor's instruction. She has the potential to surpass even you, but I suspect her morals will get in the way."

"Morals? Oh, this should be fun. Are you sure you want me refining her skills in the mental arts?"

"Quite. Do try to remember to play nicely."

"Yes, yes. No breaking your new toy. I hadn't realized you were so desperate for a conscience, Theo."

Theo stared at her, his eyes narrowing. "Are you jealous?" Something about her demeanor was off, he realized; he expected this sort of behavior from Blaise, but not Tracey.

"Jealous?" she scoffed, with a shake of her head. "Of course not." Silence fell between them, and his eyes narrowed further as he watched her. After several minutes of this, she sighed, letting slip just a hint of distress before murmuring, "It's just... You're not trying to replace me, are you? With her?"

He was moving before she'd finished the question, rounding his desk and advancing on her. She held her ground, though her eyes were wide, and he lifted a hand to catch her chin, tilting her head back. "We're family, remember?" he reminded her quietly. "No one can take your place, Tracey, that much I promise you. I have a different role in mind for Hermione, but I think it would benefit both of you to spend time together." He let go of her and stepped back, allowing her a moment to regain her composure. "Now, is there anything else?"

"I'll have the final report for you today from our Unspeakable guest," she said, her voice cool once more. "The visit was most informative. Perhaps we can think about entertaining another visitor from Mysteries soon?"

"Draco's got two possibilities, he's supposed to get back with me by the end of the week. Apparently, his contact in the Ministry's Human Resources department has been out sick, so he hasn't been able to confirm anything. You'll be the first to know, though."

Tracey nodded, turning toward the door. "I'll see you at this week's meeting, then, if nothing comes up sooner."

Theo watched her go, waited for the door to close, and then set about taking care of the items she'd brought up; first and foremost: Blaise.


	15. Chapter 15  Blaise

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 15 - Blaise<strong>

When Theo arrived home that evening, Blaise was waiting for him in the library, seated in one of the chairs near the fireplace. The teacup set to one side was still steaming, suggesting that he hadn't been there long, but Theo knew better than to assume, given the house-elves' tendency to pay inordinate amounts of attention to such details as the temperature of someone's tea (particularly with Blaise, who could be damnably high-maintenance even by house-elf standards when he was in a mood). He crossed the room to sit in the other chair, picking up the teacup that had appeared for him even before he'd sat down; he'd been expecting a meeting with Blaise all afternoon, but issuing a summons felt too heavy-handed. Besides, it was a family matter, rather than a corporate one, and best dealt with at home, to maintain at least the illusion of privacy.

After several minutes of companionable silence, Blaise finally asked, "What did she find?"

Theo considered the question for all of half a second before countering it with another question, "Excuse me?"

"Don't jerk me around, Theo, it's insulting." It was rare to see Blaise express anger, and Theo was surprised by it, though he was careful not to let it show as Blaise continued, "I may not be anywhere near your class, or Tracey's, in the mental arts, but I'm not an idiot."

"The jury's still out on that one," Theo observed, his tone one of dry humor. "Just out of curiosity, how did you know she was looking?"

Blaise sat back, his expression calculating until he finally gave up and allowed the smirk to come back. "That new security artifice we got from that firm in Tokyo? I kept a few, for my personal space. So, what did Tracey find?"

"You're not going to like it."

"That's a given. If you're trying to spare my feelings out of some brotherly loyalty or something, don't. Give it to me straight. You owe me that much, at least."

"Fair enough," Theo agreed. It was easiest dealing with Blaise when he was being conciliatory, and he had to admit he appreciated it. "Someone's been in your head. Aside from Tracey and myself, of course."

Blaise went utterly still. "That's not possible."

"Apparently, it is," Theo corrected, his tone carefully bland. Blaise's distress was genuine, which meant that Tracey was right: he'd been completely unaware that he'd been compromised.

"Don't screw with me, Theo, it's not fucking _possible_." There was a slightly hysterical note to Blaise's voice, and Theo almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"It _shouldn't_ be possible," Theo conceded, inclining his head. "We have all the local talent accounted for, and Tracey's done an excellent job of shoring up the protections in your head. So, to a certain extent, you're right, but we failed to take proper notice of the foreign talent, and you've been on the Continent recently, remember?"

This news did little to calm the distressed Blaise. "You think it was someone I ran into over there?"

"Tracey has presented it as the most likely scenario. Whoever did it is at least as good as she is, and they didn't leave any identifying markers." Theo paused, briefly, before adding, "She's fairly certain that they were behind what happened with Goyle, by the way. It may make it easier to narrow down, if you can remember what contacts the two of you might have in common."

Blaise snorted. "Not bloody likely, is it? Not much chance of me remembering them at all, and Greg's not exactly still around to compare notes with."

"I've already given that some thought." The bulk of his afternoon, in fact, though he didn't feel the need to enlighten Blaise any more than was absolutely necessary.

"Of course you have," Blaise grumbled. "Must be nice to be the Chessmaster, moving your pawns about the board, everything plotted and counter-plotted twenty steps ahead of everyone else."

"It has its moments," Theo agreed, smirking at Blaise's still-obvious irritation. They'd inadvertantly switched roles again, only this time Theo was enjoying himself. "The Ministry will, of course, have already been through the public faces of Goyle's home and office, but aside from that intrusion his things have been left untouched. There may be some sort of clue in his things."

"Greg wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, Theo, and I shouldn't have to be reminding you of that. You really think the Ministry wouldn't have found anything of importance?"

"Please. I didn't help Potter in the Minister's office because of his sharp mind and eye for detail," Theo drawled, his voice all but dripping with sarcasm. "In this particular case, I think Goyle's blunt way of thinking may have worked to our advantage. According to Tracey, he was always easy to nudge, but he was damn peculiar in that he could tell he'd _been_ nudged. He wasn't always able to articulate it well, afterwards, but that's where you come in."

"You think he might have left something for me, is that it?"

"Maybe not specifically for you, but you probably stand a better chance of finding it, and maybe it will trigger something. It's worth a shot, anyway." Theo leaned forward, his eyes intent on Blaise's face. "I don't pretend to know everything there is to know about mind magics, though I know more than most. If Goyle knew someone had been in his head, he'd have tried to leave some sort of word behind."

"Is this your way of pulling me off anything important in case there's other stuff kicking around in my head?"

The question was similar to the one Tracey had asked, earlier in the day, although Theo knew that neither Blaise nor Tracey would appreciate the comparison. "This is important," he replied, sipping his tea calmly. "If there's a new player on the field, we need to know as much as we can about them, and you're in the best position for that, right now." He waited for his words to sink in before adding, "I trust that won't be a problem?"

Silence, as Blaise sulked, beside him. Theo allowed it only because he knew that Blaise's defiant moments were always short-lived, as this one proved to be. "No. No problem." He set his teacup aside and stood up. "I'll get started on that now, then." He didn't waste time excusing himself, although Theo heard him apologizing to the elves before the telltale sound of Apparition signaled his departure.


	16. Chapter 16  Lessons

**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to do really evil things with her characters, on occasion.

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><p><strong>Chapter 16 - Lessons<strong>

Hermione was surprised to find that she got on rather well with Tracey, once they started working together. She wouldn't go so far as to say she liked the other woman, 'like' was far too emotional a word, but by the end of the first afternoon they'd established a rapport, of sorts. In addition to several practical exercises, Tracey provided her with research materials, the contents of which were unlike anything she'd ever seen before. There were formal research documents and official-looking memos as well as several hand-written journals on the nature of magic and magical theory, some of it clearly dated before the founding of Hogwarts and all of it vastly different from the curriculum that was taught at the school.

While Hermione had always prided herself on being fairly well-educated, she was forced to admit that she'd been measuring herself by Hogwarts standards, without exploring much further into the theories behind magical potential itself. Once she began to read through the materials Tracey had brought her, she was shocked to discover how much had been edited out of the school's curriculum, and while she could see the point in restricting early education, she found it rather odd that there were no wizarding universities; it wasn't the first time she'd had that thought, either, and while she hadn't received much in the way of a satisfactory explanation at the time, she'd chalked it up to the fact that there was a war on.

It took her two days to work up the nerve to broach the subject with Tracey; the woman's cool and detached demeanor was still rather intimidating, but Hermione's curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. "Why are there no wizarding universities, to teach this sort of thing?" she asked, during a break for tea.

Tracey sat back and regarded her thoughtfully, and Hermione envied the way she could hide what she was thinking. "You'd think there would be, wouldn't you? Some sort of structured higher learning, beyond the basics offered at schools like Hogwarts. The most common explanation, of course, is that the wizarding population isn't large enough, or wealthy enough, to support such an institution, but I'm sure you're smart enough to know that such explanations don't hold up when looked at too closely."

"I asked Professor McGonagall about it, once," Hermione said, nodding. "Back when she was just a teacher, of course, but she gave me that answer, too. I didn't really have time to think about it, what with the war, but it's always seemed a little strange."

"Ah, but remember that your parents are Muggles," Tracey pointed out. Before Hermione had a chance to bristle at the perceived insult, the other woman was shaking her head and holding up a hand. "Let me finish. You come from a world where such things as universities and colleges are commonplace, so of course it seems strange to you that there's no real equivalent in our world. To someone who's grown up in the wizarding world, in a wizarding household, knowing that there's only the one school to go to for seven years of study, such a thing is simply the way things are."

"You're suggesting that it has to do with the way the education system has been set up?" Hermione asked, after taking a moment to process the words.

"Think about it. The curriculum at Hogwarts has been the same for centuries, with only a few rare exceptions in classes such as Defense. In most cases, when staff has needed replacing, the existing teachers have been able to recommend their replacements, which tends to ensure that the next person to teach any given subject will remain true to the class structure already set down by his or her predecessors. The only time attendance has ever been mandatory was the year Riddle had an iron grip on the Ministry."

"You call him by his given name?" Hermione asked, so shocked she blurted it out, even though she knew it was an interruption.

Tracey handled it graciously. "Theo insists." A faint smile flickered across her face, and Hermione felt an absurd, irrational stab of jealousy at the display of familiarity. "Back to Hogwarts, though, attendance has never been mandatory, save for that single year. Granted, most parents will send their children, and the OWL and NEWT scores necessary for most employers provide quite the incentive, which brings me to another point. Most careers in our world don't require any schooling beyond the basics of what is taught at Hogwarts, and those that do offer additional training on the job. The average witch or wizard, after coming of age, invariably enters the work force; most of them need to, in fact, to support themselves or their families."

Hermione felt the sneer twisting her mouth even before she said, "So, there's no university for wealthy pure-bloods only, then?"

"There've been a few," Tracey replied, shrugging. "They never seem to work. You might have noticed, but we magical folk tend to be a rather fractious bunch. Besides, there aren't very many wealthy pure-bloods left, and those that are can be notoriously difficult at taking directions. The problem with being raised to think one is better than everyone else is that when you have a double handful of children raised that way they end up fighting each other for pride of place sooner or later. Especially in Slytherin, which is where most of us end up. You also have to take into account the fact that no one is ever really encouraged to take a close look at magical theory, not the way you and I are looking at it now, anyway."

"Where did all of this research come from, then?" Hermione felt obliged to ask, waving her hand over the papers and books.

"Old family libraries, some of it. The journals, for instance, have been in Theo's family for years. Most of us have contributed to the research, though. There's a reason that Nott Enterprises has been so successful, although a lot of that is due to Theo himself. It helps that he can see potential."

Hermione stared at her. "He can do what?" Mentally, she was scrambling, trying to recall the page that mentioned something about determining potential.

"You've been through the volume by Nicodemus, yes?" Tracey waited for Hermione to nod before continuing, "He was Theo's grandfather. It was his work that led Theo to discovering what his own gift could do, so essentially it's the reason we're all here. The best and the brightest, gathered together in Theo's little family. Although some of the others will refer to us as pieces in Theo's chess game."

"Which piece are you?" Hermione asked. She couldn't help it, the mention of chess brought to mind the brutal imagery of wizarding chess sets demolishing each other, and she shivered.

"That's a question you'll have to ask Theo," Tracey replied, shrugging. "He's the only one who sees the whole board, and I'm afraid I've never been all that good at chess."

"Neither have I." Hermione smiled at the discovery of one more thing she had in common with the woman. "Ron always said it was because I wasn't willing to make the necessary sacrifices."

"An apt assessment, if somewhat simplistic. Your talents lie in other areas, as do mine, but I suspect you know this already, yes? It's why you chose to use your gifts to assist Potter, why you never tried to take the lead, though you were certainly qualified to do so. Potter's status as Chosen One didn't automatically make him the best candidate to be in charge, and he never would have succeeded if not for your help. Which is why you're here."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by the words; it was as if Tracey had cut through to the heart of who she was, leaving her exposed. "How do you know so much about me? Have you been in my head?"

"There are some things that are quite obvious to the careful observer, without the use of magic, and we've been watching you for quite some time.

It shouldn't have alarmed her, hearing that they'd been watching her; after all, Theo had said as much, the last time she'd seen him. She couldn't quite help the thrill of fear that slid down her spine, though, and she shivered in spite of herself.

Some of her alarm must have shown on her face, because Tracey twitched an eyebrow in response. "It's true that we've watched you, but that's all; we wouldn't force you to be here." Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles that was probably meant to be reassuring as she added, "You've as much free will as any of the rest of us."

Hermione didn't find herself at all reassured by this, however.


End file.
